


Hunting A Winchester

by Wicked_For_Good



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Gore, Bobby not dead, Castiel not dead, Charlie not dead, Crowly not dead, Kevin Tran not dead, no specific time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-22 13:58:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12483224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_For_Good/pseuds/Wicked_For_Good
Summary: "Stay inside the salt circle!"That was the first, and last thing my father said to me. It wasn't an 'I love you' or a 'Everything will be alright'. Instead it was a command. One of which I did not follow. I guess when Dean Winchester gives you a order you should follow it. I'm not sure why I didn't listen. It was probably just me being a stubborn six year old attempting to be a brave little soldier.My name is Hunter Mary Winchester,  I'm a Virgo, I enjoy long lazy days on the couch,  and a man in a uniform. And I hunting my father





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter doesn't like planes

My fingers gripped the seat as Metallica blared in my ears. I couldn't hear the words over my pounding heart, and the possible scenarios playing through in my head. Â Basically, they all end the same, I die. Â A slow painful death. Â I tried to appear calm, however, I was failing miserably. Â The seat belt light was off but I was strapped in tight.Â 

My eyes darted around a few people gave me weird looks. I might have been dressed bad ass but the fear on my face made me look the exact opposite. Okay, that was a lie, I wasn't dressed badass, more like a bum, but either way, I had lost any indication that I was, in fact, a strong brave young woman.Â 

A light poke on my shoulder made me pull me out my headphones. To my right sat a slim boy, freckles covering his face like sprinkles on a cupcake. His eyes were brown, and his hair was an auburn mop on his head. He had thin lips and a hooked nose. This boy was Tyson Maverick. He was 5'8 were as I stood about 5'8 and a half. Â I was tall suppose it came from my dad's side. My mother's side nobody got taller than 5'6.Â 

When I attended family reunions I stood as a skyscraper. My cousins avoided talking to me unless I was sitting down because it hurt there necks to look up. There were a few selective young cousins who often asked to sit on my shoulders so they could view the world from up high.Â I didn't mind it was the only thing my height was good for. Besides being able to reach the top shelf, and the ability to screw in a light bulb without a chair.

Tyson had been my best friend for what seemed like forever. We were more like family than regular friends. Â He was like the brother I never wanted. That's a lie, I've always wanted a sibling and he was close I had to one. Although he was annoying and I wanted nothing more than to strangle him most of the time.

"Your shaking," Ty tells me. As if I didn't already know. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. My chest burned and it felt as if my heart dropped to my stomach,Â "I can't believe it, Winchester, you afraid of heights! Of all things! Are your listening to Metallica really? "

"It keeps me calm now shut it!" Was the best comeback I could manage at the moment, For my eyes had already met his phone, "Did you have that on when the plane took off?! You could cause the plane to crash!"

I was quite alarmed everyone knows your supposed to turn them off. The flight attendant made it very clear as did the captain over the speakers. Â "Don't tell me you really believe that! Everyone knows that it's just a myth!"

Tyson was an idjit even on his good days. Although he was afraid of small things like spiders and jumped a million times during scary movies, he wasn't afraid of heights. A since I was, he made sure to use it to his full advantage. When on a fairs-wheel, even though it says don't rock, its exactly what he does.Â 

A that's why I hate carnivals. Never will I attend one with him again. He nudges me when were for example on the top of a tall building. I was about to yell at him some more but stopped when the whole plane shuttered. Nobody seemed to give it a second thought. I, however, started a series of 'Oh My God's' in my head.Â 

Tyson must have seen my face go pale and my fingers claw deeper into the seat. For he took this opportunity to try and scare me, "That doesn't sound too good Mary," he said slowly, using my middle name, "That could be engine failure, or maybe the pilot passed out in the cockpit and nobodies flying the plane."Â 

If we were in any other scenery I would have gone full on Ninja Turtle and kicked his ass. He went on saying all the scenarios I had previously been imagining and voiced them. Â To block him out I returned the headphones to my ears and sunk into the loud ear busting music which helped ease my trembling.

He was still moving his mouth attempting to pull out my earbuds, "I think we might actually crash," He said. I punched his arm hard my knuckles popping in the process. A flight attends past by offering us snacks.Â 

I refused for I knew I wasn't in the mood to stomach anything. I'd regret it when the plane landed and I'd be extremely hungry. I'd debated taking a nap but then the thought waking up to a going down plane made me keep my eyes open.

Tyson why rubbed his sore shoulder, "Next time we're driving," I said to him.Â 

"With what car?" he said narrowing his eyes. I couldn't afford a car, and because of me Tyson's was totaled.Â 

"I'm sorry," I offered. I really wasn't mainly because it wasn't my fault.

The plane shuttered again it was only slightly. I hated flying. This wasn't the first time I'd been on a plane, but it sure as hell would be the last.Â  Especially with Tyson who started to shake me violently, "Mayday! MAYDAY!"

"This may just be your last day!" I hissed. He just fell back in his seat chuckling. I sunk deeper in my mine hating him, theÂ planes, and my fear of planes. Of all things, I had to suffer from the terror of anything that took my feet off the ground.Â 

\------

At some point, I had dozed off despite my intentions not to. My dreams where just an endless sea of darkness and the soft lyrics of Black Sabbath. Â I was woken by Tyson dropping my carry on in my lap. I groaned relief washing over me as I discovered we had landed.Â  I almost did a happy dance but was too sore to even try. The seats were not very comfortable, nothing about planes were comfortable.Â 

I popped a couple bones, something a little unpleasant and followed the herd off the death trap. Tyson was about four people ahead of me. I wrapped up my dangling headphones before stuffing them in my bag. The plane had a sort of weird smell to it. I didn't pay much attention, I knew if I did it just get worse.

The airport was rather packed.Â  What normal person travels on a Tuesday? I mean it is summer but still, Tuesday is such an awkward day. Then again I had flown here today. Mainly because driving and walking were both out of the question.

I could no longer see Tyson but I was sure he made a beeline to pick up our luggage's. An I unlike him had more important matters to attend to. My growling stomach. I started towards the food court. Pushing past people murmuring things that they probably thought was 'excuse me' but was really just me making noises.

I was sure Ty would figure out where I had run off to. We had an understanding. If I go missing I'm most likely where there's pie, if he's missing he'll be anywhere there's something extremely geeky. Like the library or those place that sell old movie action figures.

It took longer than I'd liked to reach the food court. I moved quickly getting in one of the lines that weren't too long. I was too hungry to read the sign to even figure where I was or even what they sold. I knew I'd have to find Tyson something to eat. He was a vegetarian ('Gerbil' as I called them) and ate food I tend to avoid.

Vegetables weren't my thing, not that I don't force down a salad every once in awhile. I was a bacon, pie, fries person. To simplify I wasn't a healthy eater and anything grease was for me. Which was probably why I was kind of chubby. Not to mention my thighs were massive.Â 

I wasn't a skinny model with flawless looks. However,Â if you brought up the 'flaws' in my looks, I would kill you. My hair was a dirty blonde, that was knotted and tangled on my head. I had a tendency to lose my brush and do not care. My eyes were green, I was told the same color as my fathers.

My lips appeared as if they were swollen, and my nose was slightly crooked(from having it broken in my fair share of fights). I wasn't the prettiest flower in the garden actually I was more of a weed. The line moved slowly but eventually, I made it to the counter. The words were out of my mouth before the woman could speak.

"Do you sell pie?" This was a common question of mine. It was right next to, 'Where's my phone?' and 'Are you fromÂ Tennessee?' Which I then lamely add, 'Cause your the only ten I see.' I wasn't the best flirt, to say the least, but hey a girl gotta try.

My aunt had told me my father was a player and could pick up pretty much any girl he wanted. 'Thanks dad for not passing down any useful genes' I thought to myself adding,Â  'at least you gave me sarcasm, something so useful I'm surprised someone hasn't killed me yet!'

"No sorry we do have cake," she says. She gestured to the cakes at which looked delicious but how can you have cake and not pie!

I frowned, "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, curly fries, and a salad to go, along with two Mountain dew's one diet one regular, make them large."

I voiced this pulling a couple crumbled dollars from my jeans. I dropped a few useless pennies at which I didn't bother to be down and get. Tyson is right, I get lazier by the day. After paying I waited patiently for my order standing off to the side. It was late midday, it looked like I'd have to search tomorrow.Â  I wondered why Tyson hadn't found me yet. My guess was he was waiting for me to find him.Â 

The food was done in about ten minutes, not exactly fast food in my opinion. I carried the two paper bags in one hand,Â and the drinks in the other. Before I was out the food court I smelled the horrible smell again. It was the same smell as on the plane.

I raised the bag of food smelling it. The odd oder defiantly wasn't the food. Even if it was I'd probably eat it anyway. Yes, I am that hungry. Instead of going towards the last place I saw Tyson I went to the exit. My combat boots scuffing the tile as I shuffled to the doors. The outside air was warm in Kansas and I took it in happily. Even though I knew I'd hate it in a few minutes when I started sweating a river. Taking a seat on a bench outside I pulled out my baconÂ burger shoving as much as possible in my mouth.

I knew if Tyson could see me he'd shake his head and tell me of the risk of choking.Which I usually reply to with 'Well its a good thing you know the himelick.' While I chewed in a unladylike manner I texted Ty telling him to meet me outside. He didn't reply but it showed he read it. Waiting I ate and adjusted my shoulder bag which had been my carry on. It was black leather,Â  band pin logos covered it in mutable places.

Finishing my burger and a couple fries I wipe my greasy fingers on my sweatpants. Opening my bag I reaching inside digging out my notebook. What had became a routine I turning to the last page I wrote in. I then began to read the information over again. Lawrence, Kansas was printedÂ at the top under it was the address and a photo of the house. Not just any but his. My fathers, at least it used to be. From what I could gather he, his father, and his brother left after a fire in which killed his mother.

I guess it was another thing me and my father had in common. We both were motherless, the difference is he had another family to rely on. He still had his brother and his dad. Me I had no siblings, I had Tyson but it wasn't completely the same thing. My mothers side of the family hated me. They treated me more like an unwanted burden than family. I had no mother, and a father who left me was presumed dead, only to pop back up and then become dead again.

Tyson says I'm chasing a ghost, but I know Dean Winchester is not dead.Â  I can just feel it. Besides if you can convince the world your dead once you can do it again.Â  I had to find him, not only did I need answers but I need to look him in the eyes and have him see me. The daughter he had abandoned, the mess up school dropout. The failure on my mother's side of the family. He needs to see that he left me and wasn't there to help me through rough times. He wasn't there to be a father that I need, the parent he was responsible to be.Â 

Tyson appeared holding two suitcases and a bag of his own. His face was almost pale and he looked rather confused, "Hunter?" He said his voice soft. My name was an odd one. I had been named after my great-grandfather on my mom's side. My middle name Mary came from my father's mother and of course, my last name came from my father as well.Â 

I raised an eyebrow, "You okay?" I asked. He had broken into a light sweat.

"I...I'm find just blackout a second, so you ready to go?" I nodded holding up the bag containing his salad.

"Got you something to eat," I offered him the bag which he took hesitantly, "It's not too long of a walk to the nearest motel, will leave when you are done."

Usually, I would make him walk and eat. Multitasking is a useful skill, and its great to exercises it. However, he looked like he needs to sit down a moment. Besides I need to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Pulling out my phone I researched more on my father. Although I had read everything more times than I could count I need to make sure I didn't miss anything.Â Besides reading all the felonies and such made me feel slightly better.

At least I wasn't the biggest mess up on his side of the family.

It was then I realized the smell was back. It smelled familiar now thatÂ I think of it.Â Nervous I played with the charm hanging from my necklace. Fiddling with it for a moment I looked to Tyson, something was wrong.Â  Where did I know this smell from?

\------

The motel was small and cramped. The walls were covered in a pealing green wallpaper. Strange stains made me shudder. This wasn't the first time I'd stayed in a motel but that didn't change the unease about this one. I had dropped my stuff on the bed closest to the door.Â 

The sheets matched the wall a puke green. The small refrigerate that sat in the corner held nothing more than a few bottles of water. I decided I'd go later to get some snacks from the store down the street. The room was humid the broken air-conditioner made odd clicking noises. Â 

The smell from the plane, and airport lingered. I had convinced myself it was me and that I need a shower. Taking a set of clothes from my bag I parted with Tyson who decided to go to bed.Â The bathroom was the most questionable place in the motel.Â  It was disgusting but it also could be worse. The door handle was broken so it didn't lock.Â 

The walls were a dirty white tile, that was cracked in several places. It was almost like it was on the verge of crumbling. It was no wonder it was so cheap. It was wasn't as bad as some of the other places I'd had stayed.

Turning on the water, I tried to get it the right temperature. After a couple moments and me failing I got up. Setting my folded clothes on the counter with my towel I stared at my reflection. My hair was tied up in a tangled ponytail. The black smuggest of makeup smeared my face mainly around my eyes.Â 

It made me look tired and almost like I'd went through a traumatic breakup. The ones from the cliche chick flick that I really enjoy but would never admit to anyone. I won't lie I was a sap underneath the black leather.

Wiping away the makeup I noticed I was pale. The only color was my slightly sunburned ears and cheeks. I was like Casper covered in baby powder.Â  Although I was a dirty blonde you couldn't tell for my hair was browner than anything. A strand had caught itself in one of my snakebite piercings.

I hadn't noticed but my nose ring was no longer in its usual place. It must have fallen out, I would need to get my spare. Despite me, flaw-filled face I had remarkable green eyes. The one and the only thing I could thank my father for. Before I got in the shower I removed my necklace setting it on the counter. I'd had it since before I could remember. I pulled off the silver ring that had been my mothers.

I paused a moment thinking about her, something I tried to do as little as possible. I can't explain how she died. I could only hope my father could answer that. He was there, it was the first and last time I'd seen him.

Shaking away the distant memory I stepped into the rushing water. It was cold, the hot water didn't seem to wanna work. Besides for the water, the place was silent. I hummed to myself 'Carry on My Wayward' by Kansas.Â 

It was one of my favorite songs. I used to have the cassette tape until Tyson broke. Gladly he bought me a CD of it. Â Which I listen to in his car every day until he no longer had a car. Now I just listen to it on my phone.However, it wasn't the same.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made me shut my mouth. Listening I could see the shadow of who I presumed was Tyson, "Ty?" I asked, "You need something?"

Peeking out from behind the green shower curtain I was surprised to find no one. Frowning my eyebrows I began to wash my hair. I must be tired or maybe the stressful flight had made me start to see things.

After my shower, I dressed in some red plaid pajama pants and some old band t-shirt. Ty slept soundly his face buried into a pillow. It barely muffled his loud annoying snores.Â I shook him slightly, "Gonna go to the store," I tell him.

He mumbled something that I couldn't make out. However, if I had to guess it was along the lines of 'I don't care'. The sun was down and as I grabbed some cash I notice the smell was still in the Motel. Shrugging it off I continued outside.

It had cooled down only slightly, and the streets had become a minim of a few cars and random people who stood outside to take a smoke. The stars where out reminding me of the glow in the dark stickers I had on my ceiling as a child. The store was only a five minutes walk from the motel. It those minutes I notice the smell was gone.Â 

Which led me to believe that it was most likely Tyson. I'd spray air fresher on him when I got back. Of course, I'd need to buy some first. Adding that to my mental list I paused watching a couple cars passed. I couldn't help but wonder if my father had stood where I was now.

I mean he did live here. Pushing some strands of wet hair from my face. The street lights flickered and I froze midway into crossing the street. I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. I had a sudden feeling that something was about to go wrong. I ignored it, something I should probably stop doing.

It didn't take long to arrive at the store. A woman sat at the counter she gave me a sideways smile as I walked in. The unease feeling had faded and been replaced with the desire to stuff my face with a pie.

I had an unhealthy obsession. Grabbing a cherry pie I began to hum 'she's my cherry pie...' I then took a twelve pack of code red mountain dew. The thought dawned on me that maybe this whole thing was crazy.Running away to Kansas,Â  in search of a man who possibly an impossible person to track. It gave me a headache thinking about how little I have and how long of a road I had ahead.

The possibility of finding Dean Winchester was one and a gazillion. However there is still a chance, and besides, I had nothing better to do. Setting the Pie and Soda on the counter I threw in a couple bags of gummy bears and beef jerky.

"Hey darlin' haven't seen you around here before," The woman tells me. She looked to be in her late thirties.

"Oh, I'm just visiting a couple friends," I tell her. Lies came easy spilling off my lips like water. I'd been told both of my parents had been an excellent liars.Â Most won't consider lying aÂ talent but since I have so little few talents I consider lying one of my tops.Â 

"How long are you staying?" She asked.

"Not long just a couple days," I said casually.

"Well I'm HollyÂ WitherÂ and it was nice to meet you," she says after she rang up the items.

She was a ginger with brown eyes and enough freckles to make her face an orange-brown color. Her red lipstick was smeared on her front tooth. I felt like I should say something but didn't want to embarrass her.

"I'm Mary Maverick and it was nice meeting you as well," I rarely use my first name it was sort of an instinct of mine. I liked it better if people didn't know who I was. Hunter Winchester might not go through well.

My father had been a wanted murder before he had been confirmed dead. A from experience the last name Winchester was a sign for crazy. I was looked at as a freak at school. I couldn't have friends because all the adults in my old neighborhood told their kids not to hang around me.

I was treated like a ticking time bomb. At any moment that Winchester will explode and become an ax murder or something. My reputation for being short-tempered and a troublemaker only seemed to prove a point. 'The Winchester name is cursed!' I heard many times. Along with, 'That Winchester girl is trouble, she already started in her father's footsteps, and we all know where those lead!'

I can't say I believed being a Winchester was a bad thing. And although I didn't know my father I didn't believe he was a murder. However, I did agree that I wasn't on a good path. I dropped out of school, had been arrested mutable times, and put one no two people in the hospital.

It didn't take a genius to see with a record like that, I wouldn't amount to much. I mean if truly tried I might have a chance but knowing me I'd mess up that chance. I did a quick exit. My desperation to get back to the motel and stuff my face made me move fast.

Its kind of sad food is one of the only things thatÂ motivate me.Â  From walking faster to getting up in the morning, it was all for food and a little because I had to use the bathroom.Â  The street had suddenly became empty. There were about two people out from what I could see but other than that it was deserted.

Clinching the plastic bag and the twelve pack I crossed the street.Â  The box of soda cut into the fingers. Using my knee I attempted to adjust it. PausingÂ for a momentÂ I frowned at theÂ fact my nose started to itch.Â  The street lights all flickered again beforeÂ the one over me busted sending fragments of glass down at me.

A squeak escaped my lips just asÂ the twelve pack box ripped. Cans smashedÂ against the sidewalk. The liquid sprayed making an almost hissing sound. "Son of a bitch!" I cursed. Before I could react much,Â I was grabbed from behind. IÂ nearlyÂ scream but a cold hand covered my mouth. TheÂ smell filled my nostrils,Â  and I noticed it sorta smelledÂ like rotten eggs.

"Your defiantly the easiest Winchester to catch," the familiar voice filled my ears.

Confusion suddenly overwhelmed me along with anger, "Tyson?" My voice was muffled so it came out more like, 'Tiphssin'. The only thing that was running through my head was 'What kind of annoying joke was Tyson playing!'

I wish I had known this wasn't Tyson.

My fingers gripped the seat as Metallica blared in my ears. I couldn't hear the words over my pounding heart, and the possible scenarios playing through in my head. Â Basically, they all end the same, I die. Â A slow painful death. Â I tried to appear calm, however, I was failing miserably. Â The seat belt light was off but I was strapped in tight.Â 

My eyes darted around a few people gave me weird looks. I might have been dressed bad ass but the fear on my face made me look the exact opposite. Okay, that was a lie, I wasn't dressed badass, more like a bum, but either way, I had lost any indication that I was, in fact, a strong brave young woman.Â 

A light poke on my shoulder made me pull me out my headphones. To my right sat a slim boy, freckles covering his face like sprinkles on a cupcake. His eyes were brown, and his hair was an auburn mop on his head. He had thin lips and a hooked nose. This boy was Tyson Maverick. He was 5'8 were as I stood about 5'8 and a half. Â I was tall suppose it came from my dad's side. My mother's side nobody got taller than 5'6.Â 

When I attended family reunions I stood as a skyscraper. My cousins avoided talking to me unless I was sitting down because it hurt there necks to look up. There were a few selective young cousins who often asked to sit on my shoulders so they could view the world from up high.Â I didn't mind it was the only thing my height was good for. Besides being able to reach the top shelf, and the ability to screw in a light bulb without a chair.

Tyson had been my best friend for what seemed like forever. We were more like family than regular friends. Â He was like the brother I never wanted. That's a lie, I've always wanted a sibling and he was close I had to one. Although he was annoying and I wanted nothing more than to strangle him most of the time.

"Your shaking," Ty tells me. As if I didn't already know. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. My chest burned and it felt as if my heart dropped to my stomach,Â "I can't believe it, Winchester, you afraid of heights! Of all things! Are your listening to Metallica really? "

"It keeps me calm now shut it!" Was the best comeback I could manage at the moment, For my eyes had already met his phone, "Did you have that on when the plane took off?! You could cause the plane to crash!"

I was quite alarmed everyone knows your supposed to turn them off. The flight attendant made it very clear as did the captain over the speakers. Â "Don't tell me you really believe that! Everyone knows that it's just a myth!"

Tyson was an idjit even on his good days. Although he was afraid of small things like spiders and jumped a million times during scary movies, he wasn't afraid of heights. A since I was, he made sure to use it to his full advantage. When on a fairs-wheel, even though it says don't rock, its exactly what he does.Â 

A that's why I hate carnivals. Never will I attend one with him again. He nudges me when were for example on the top of a tall building. I was about to yell at him some more but stopped when the whole plane shuttered. Nobody seemed to give it a second thought. I, however, started a series of 'Oh My God's' in my head.Â 

Tyson must have seen my face go pale and my fingers claw deeper into the seat. For he took this opportunity to try and scare me, "That doesn't sound too good Mary," he said slowly, using my middle name, "That could be engine failure, or maybe the pilot passed out in the cockpit and nobodies flying the plane."Â 

If we were in any other scenery I would have gone full on Ninja Turtle and kicked his ass. He went on saying all the scenarios I had previously been imagining and voiced them. Â To block him out I returned the headphones to my ears and sunk into the loud ear busting music which helped ease my trembling.

He was still moving his mouth attempting to pull out my earbuds, "I think we might actually crash," He said. I punched his arm hard my knuckles popping in the process. A flight attends past by offering us snacks.Â 

I refused for I knew I wasn't in the mood to stomach anything. I'd regret it when the plane landed and I'd be extremely hungry. I'd debated taking a nap but then the thought waking up to a going down plane made me keep my eyes open.

Tyson why rubbed his sore shoulder, "Next time we're driving," I said to him.Â 

"With what car?" he said narrowing his eyes. I couldn't afford a car, and because of me Tyson's was totaled.Â 

"I'm sorry," I offered. I really wasn't mainly because it wasn't my fault.

The plane shuttered again it was only slightly. I hated flying. This wasn't the first time I'd been on a plane, but it sure as hell would be the last.Â  Especially with Tyson who started to shake me violently, "Mayday! MAYDAY!"

"This may just be your last day!" I hissed. He just fell back in his seat chuckling. I sunk deeper in my mine hating him, theÂ planes, and my fear of planes. Of all things, I had to suffer from the terror of anything that took my feet off the ground.Â 

\------

At some point, I had dozed off despite my intentions not to. My dreams where just an endless sea of darkness and the soft lyrics of Black Sabbath. Â I was woken by Tyson dropping my carry on in my lap. I groaned relief washing over me as I discovered we had landed.Â  I almost did a happy dance but was too sore to even try. The seats were not very comfortable, nothing about planes were comfortable.Â 

I popped a couple bones, something a little unpleasant and followed the herd off the death trap. Tyson was about four people ahead of me. I wrapped up my dangling headphones before stuffing them in my bag. The plane had a sort of weird smell to it. I didn't pay much attention, I knew if I did it just get worse.

The airport was rather packed.Â  What normal person travels on a Tuesday? I mean it is summer but still, Tuesday is such an awkward day. Then again I had flown here today. Mainly because driving and walking were both out of the question.

I could no longer see Tyson but I was sure he made a beeline to pick up our luggage's. An I unlike him had more important matters to attend to. My growling stomach. I started towards the food court. Pushing past people murmuring things that they probably thought was 'excuse me' but was really just me making noises.

I was sure Ty would figure out where I had run off to. We had an understanding. If I go missing I'm most likely where there's pie, if he's missing he'll be anywhere there's something extremely geeky. Like the library or those place that sell old movie action figures.

It took longer than I'd liked to reach the food court. I moved quickly getting in one of the lines that weren't too long. I was too hungry to read the sign to even figure where I was or even what they sold. I knew I'd have to find Tyson something to eat. He was a vegetarian ('Gerbil' as I called them) and ate food I tend to avoid.

Vegetables weren't my thing, not that I don't force down a salad every once in awhile. I was a bacon, pie, fries person. To simplify I wasn't a healthy eater and anything grease was for me. Which was probably why I was kind of chubby. Not to mention my thighs were massive.Â 

I wasn't a skinny model with flawless looks. However,Â if you brought up the 'flaws' in my looks, I would kill you. My hair was a dirty blonde, that was knotted and tangled on my head. I had a tendency to lose my brush and do not care. My eyes were green, I was told the same color as my fathers.

My lips appeared as if they were swollen, and my nose was slightly crooked(from having it broken in my fair share of fights). I wasn't the prettiest flower in the garden actually I was more of a weed. The line moved slowly but eventually, I made it to the counter. The words were out of my mouth before the woman could speak.

"Do you sell pie?" This was a common question of mine. It was right next to, 'Where's my phone?' and 'Are you fromÂ Tennessee?' Which I then lamely add, 'Cause your the only ten I see.' I wasn't the best flirt, to say the least, but hey a girl gotta try.

My aunt had told me my father was a player and could pick up pretty much any girl he wanted. 'Thanks dad for not passing down any useful genes' I thought to myself adding,Â  'at least you gave me sarcasm, something so useful I'm surprised someone hasn't killed me yet!'

"No sorry we do have cake," she says. She gestured to the cakes at which looked delicious but how can you have cake and not pie!

I frowned, "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, curly fries, and a salad to go, along with two Mountain dew's one diet one regular, make them large."

I voiced this pulling a couple crumbled dollars from my jeans. I dropped a few useless pennies at which I didn't bother to be down and get. Tyson is right, I get lazier by the day. After paying I waited patiently for my order standing off to the side. It was late midday, it looked like I'd have to search tomorrow.Â  I wondered why Tyson hadn't found me yet. My guess was he was waiting for me to find him.Â 

The food was done in about ten minutes, not exactly fast food in my opinion. I carried the two paper bags in one hand,Â and the drinks in the other. Before I was out the food court I smelled the horrible smell again. It was the same smell as on the plane.

I raised the bag of food smelling it. The odd oder defiantly wasn't the food. Even if it was I'd probably eat it anyway. Yes, I am that hungry. Instead of going towards the last place I saw Tyson I went to the exit. My combat boots scuffing the tile as I shuffled to the doors. The outside air was warm in Kansas and I took it in happily. Even though I knew I'd hate it in a few minutes when I started sweating a river. Taking a seat on a bench outside I pulled out my baconÂ burger shoving as much as possible in my mouth.

I knew if Tyson could see me he'd shake his head and tell me of the risk of choking.Which I usually reply to with 'Well its a good thing you know the himelick.' While I chewed in a unladylike manner I texted Ty telling him to meet me outside. He didn't reply but it showed he read it. Waiting I ate and adjusted my shoulder bag which had been my carry on. It was black leather,Â  band pin logos covered it in mutable places.

Finishing my burger and a couple fries I wipe my greasy fingers on my sweatpants. Opening my bag I reaching inside digging out my notebook. What had became a routine I turning to the last page I wrote in. I then began to read the information over again. Lawrence, Kansas was printedÂ at the top under it was the address and a photo of the house. Not just any but his. My fathers, at least it used to be. From what I could gather he, his father, and his brother left after a fire in which killed his mother.

I guess it was another thing me and my father had in common. We both were motherless, the difference is he had another family to rely on. He still had his brother and his dad. Me I had no siblings, I had Tyson but it wasn't completely the same thing. My mothers side of the family hated me. They treated me more like an unwanted burden than family. I had no mother, and a father who left me was presumed dead, only to pop back up and then become dead again.

Tyson says I'm chasing a ghost, but I know Dean Winchester is not dead.Â  I can just feel it. Besides if you can convince the world your dead once you can do it again.Â  I had to find him, not only did I need answers but I need to look him in the eyes and have him see me. The daughter he had abandoned, the mess up school dropout. The failure on my mother's side of the family. He needs to see that he left me and wasn't there to help me through rough times. He wasn't there to be a father that I need, the parent he was responsible to be.Â 

Tyson appeared holding two suitcases and a bag of his own. His face was almost pale and he looked rather confused, "Hunter?" He said his voice soft. My name was an odd one. I had been named after my great-grandfather on my mom's side. My middle name Mary came from my father's mother and of course, my last name came from my father as well.Â 

I raised an eyebrow, "You okay?" I asked. He had broken into a light sweat.

"I...I'm find just blackout a second, so you ready to go?" I nodded holding up the bag containing his salad.

"Got you something to eat," I offered him the bag which he took hesitantly, "It's not too long of a walk to the nearest motel, will leave when you are done."

Usually, I would make him walk and eat. Multitasking is a useful skill, and its great to exercises it. However, he looked like he needs to sit down a moment. Besides I need to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Pulling out my phone I researched more on my father. Although I had read everything more times than I could count I need to make sure I didn't miss anything.Â Besides reading all the felonies and such made me feel slightly better.

At least I wasn't the biggest mess up on his side of the family.

It was then I realized the smell was back. It smelled familiar now thatÂ I think of it.Â Nervous I played with the charm hanging from my necklace. Fiddling with it for a moment I looked to Tyson, something was wrong.Â  Where did I know this smell from?

\------

The motel was small and cramped. The walls were covered in a pealing green wallpaper. Strange stains made me shudder. This wasn't the first time I'd stayed in a motel but that didn't change the unease about this one. I had dropped my stuff on the bed closest to the door.Â 

The sheets matched the wall a puke green. The small refrigerate that sat in the corner held nothing more than a few bottles of water. I decided I'd go later to get some snacks from the store down the street. The room was humid the broken air-conditioner made odd clicking noises. Â 

The smell from the plane, and airport lingered. I had convinced myself it was me and that I need a shower. Taking a set of clothes from my bag I parted with Tyson who decided to go to bed.Â The bathroom was the most questionable place in the motel.Â  It was disgusting but it also could be worse. The door handle was broken so it didn't lock.Â 

The walls were a dirty white tile, that was cracked in several places. It was almost like it was on the verge of crumbling. It was no wonder it was so cheap. It was wasn't as bad as some of the other places I'd had stayed.

Turning on the water, I tried to get it the right temperature. After a couple moments and me failing I got up. Setting my folded clothes on the counter with my towel I stared at my reflection. My hair was tied up in a tangled ponytail. The black smuggest of makeup smeared my face mainly around my eyes.Â 

It made me look tired and almost like I'd went through a traumatic breakup. The ones from the cliche chick flick that I really enjoy but would never admit to anyone. I won't lie I was a sap underneath the black leather.

Wiping away the makeup I noticed I was pale. The only color was my slightly sunburned ears and cheeks. I was like Casper covered in baby powder.Â  Although I was a dirty blonde you couldn't tell for my hair was browner than anything. A strand had caught itself in one of my snakebite piercings.

I hadn't noticed but my nose ring was no longer in its usual place. It must have fallen out, I would need to get my spare. Despite me, flaw-filled face I had remarkable green eyes. The one and the only thing I could thank my father for. Before I got in the shower I removed my necklace setting it on the counter. I'd had it since before I could remember. I pulled off the silver ring that had been my mothers.

I paused a moment thinking about her, something I tried to do as little as possible. I can't explain how she died. I could only hope my father could answer that. He was there, it was the first and last time I'd seen him.

Shaking away the distant memory I stepped into the rushing water. It was cold, the hot water didn't seem to wanna work. Besides for the water, the place was silent. I hummed to myself 'Carry on My Wayward' by Kansas.Â 

It was one of my favorite songs. I used to have the cassette tape until Tyson broke. Gladly he bought me a CD of it. Â Which I listen to in his car every day until he no longer had a car. Now I just listen to it on my phone.However, it wasn't the same.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made me shut my mouth. Listening I could see the shadow of who I presumed was Tyson, "Ty?" I asked, "You need something?"

Peeking out from behind the green shower curtain I was surprised to find no one. Frowning my eyebrows I began to wash my hair. I must be tired or maybe the stressful flight had made me start to see things.

After my shower, I dressed in some red plaid pajama pants and some old band t-shirt. Ty slept soundly his face buried into a pillow. It barely muffled his loud annoying snores.Â I shook him slightly, "Gonna go to the store," I tell him.

He mumbled something that I couldn't make out. However, if I had to guess it was along the lines of 'I don't care'. The sun was down and as I grabbed some cash I notice the smell was still in the Motel. Shrugging it off I continued outside.

It had cooled down only slightly, and the streets had become a minim of a few cars and random people who stood outside to take a smoke. The stars where out reminding me of the glow in the dark stickers I had on my ceiling as a child. The store was only a five minutes walk from the motel. It those minutes I notice the smell was gone.Â 

Which led me to believe that it was most likely Tyson. I'd spray air fresher on him when I got back. Of course, I'd need to buy some first. Adding that to my mental list I paused watching a couple cars passed. I couldn't help but wonder if my father had stood where I was now.

I mean he did live here. Pushing some strands of wet hair from my face. The street lights flickered and I froze midway into crossing the street. I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. I had a sudden feeling that something was about to go wrong. I ignored it, something I should probably stop doing.

It didn't take long to arrive at the store. A woman sat at the counter she gave me a sideways smile as I walked in. The unease feeling had faded and been replaced with the desire to stuff my face with a pie.

I had an unhealthy obsession. Grabbing a cherry pie I began to hum 'she's my cherry pie...' I then took a twelve pack of code red mountain dew. The thought dawned on me that maybe this whole thing was crazy.Running away to Kansas,Â  in search of a man who possibly an impossible person to track. It gave me a headache thinking about how little I have and how long of a road I had ahead.

The possibility of finding Dean Winchester was one and a gazillion. However there is still a chance, and besides, I had nothing better to do. Setting the Pie and Soda on the counter I threw in a couple bags of gummy bears and beef jerky.

"Hey darlin' haven't seen you around here before," The woman tells me. She looked to be in her late thirties.

"Oh, I'm just visiting a couple friends," I tell her. Lies came easy spilling off my lips like water. I'd been told both of my parents had been an excellent liars.Â Most won't consider lying aÂ talent but since I have so little few talents I consider lying one of my tops.Â 

"How long are you staying?" She asked.

"Not long just a couple days," I said casually.

"Well I'm HollyÂ WitherÂ and it was nice to meet you," she says after she rang up the items.

She was a ginger with brown eyes and enough freckles to make her face an orange-brown color. Her red lipstick was smeared on her front tooth. I felt like I should say something but didn't want to embarrass her.

"I'm Mary Maverick and it was nice meeting you as well," I rarely use my first name it was sort of an instinct of mine. I liked it better if people didn't know who I was. Hunter Winchester might not go through well.

My father had been a wanted murder before he had been confirmed dead. A from experience the last name Winchester was a sign for crazy. I was looked at as a freak at school. I couldn't have friends because all the adults in my old neighborhood told their kids not to hang around me.

I was treated like a ticking time bomb. At any moment that Winchester will explode and become an ax murder or something. My reputation for being short-tempered and a troublemaker only seemed to prove a point. 'The Winchester name is cursed!' I heard many times. Along with, 'That Winchester girl is trouble, she already started in her father's footsteps, and we all know where those lead!'

I can't say I believed being a Winchester was a bad thing. And although I didn't know my father I didn't believe he was a murder. However, I did agree that I wasn't on a good path. I dropped out of school, had been arrested mutable times, and put one no two people in the hospital.

It didn't take a genius to see with a record like that, I wouldn't amount to much. I mean if truly tried I might have a chance but knowing me I'd mess up that chance. I did a quick exit. My desperation to get back to the motel and stuff my face made me move fast.

Its kind of sad food is one of the only things that motivate me. From walking faster to getting up in the morning, it was all for food and a little because I had to use the bathroom. The street had suddenly became empty. There were about two people out from what I could see but other than that it was deserted.

Clinching the plastic bag and the twelve pack I crossed the street. The box of soda cut into the fingers. Using my knee I attempted to adjust it. Pausing for a moment I frowned at the fact my nose started to itch. The street lights all flickered again before the one over me busted sending fragments of glass down at me.

A squeak escaped my lips just as the twelve pack box ripped. Cans smashed against the sidewalk. The liquid sprayed making an almost hissing sound. "Son of a bitch!" I cursed. Before I could react much, I was grabbed from behind. I nearly scream but a cold hand covered my mouth. The smell filled my nostrils, and I noticed it smelled kind of like rotten eggs.

"Your defiantly the easiest Winchester to catch," the familiar voice filled my ears.

Confusion suddenly overwhelmed me along with anger, "Tyson?" My voice was muffled so it came out more like, 'Tiphssin'. The only thing that was running through my head was 'What kind of annoying joke was Tyson playing!'

I wish I had known this wasn't Tyson.


	2. Chapter Two

_"Stay inside the salt circle!"_

That was the first, and last thing my father said to me. It wasn't an _'I love you'_ or a _'Everything will be alright'._ Instead it was a command. One of which I did not follow. I guess when Dean Winchester gives you a order you should follow it. I'm not sure why I didn't listen. It was probably just me being a stubborn six year old attempting to be a brave little soldier.

Or maybe it was because I thought he could keep me safe. However it was most likely my desperation to see my mother. It didn't seem to make sense to me then or now for the matter. How could a ring of salt possibly keep me safe? Although its Â was almost eleven years ago I remember almost ever detail.

It was winter and we had just moved into the small house in Ohio. We moved often for reasons I wasn't sure of. Now that I think about it, I believe my mother was running from something. Possible someone although I couldn't be sure.

No matter where we'd go it was a constant routine. We'd pick a house with a cheap rent, and we'd take what little stuff we had and try to make it a place we could call home. If the house wasn't already furnished we'd do without beds or chairs. What little time I remember as a child I slept a lot on cold hard floors. That and the back of my mothers black Jeep.

It wasn't to uncomfortable once you got used to it. My mother was a terrible cook so fast food was one of the main things we lived on. It was probably why I was a chunky child not that all fast food was unhealthy or fattening just everything that I ordered.

I had little toy's and very few clothes. Most of which were boys, my mother started me off as a tomboy at a young age. I was never one for dresses not that I didn't wear them every once Â in awhile. Like for special occasions, holidays, and weddings for example.

I rarely complained about my lack of well _everything,_ for I always found a way to live without it. My mother used to say I should be happy with what I had because there were people who had less than that. So I did that at least I tried but sometimes you can't help but complain.

In those days I had little to no friends. It wasn't just because I was constantly moving but I wasn't the cleanest child. My face was always dirty and my clothes were worn to there limit, ripped and stain. Not to mention I hadn't the cleanest mouth either. 'Bad _words'_ were like my first language.

One of the first thing my mother did was she'd draw these weird symbols. On the walls and floors. I would sometimes helped her. I had descent art skills for my age. I asked her what they where once and she told me, "There for protection."

An like the salt I didn't believe that the strange drawings could be of any use. My mother also made me carry around a strange little bag. I didn't ask about it because like everything else I knew it had something to do with protection. I had once tore apart one finding bones and other strange things.

The house in Ohio was one of the smallest places we'd stayed. It sat at the edge of town surrounded by cornfields. It had no furniture and was falling apart. We laid on the hard wood floor, my mother attempting to keep me warm in the frigid air of December.

The freshly spray painted symbols filled the air with a smell that made me lightheaded. My nose was running and I wiped it away with my sleeve. I wore my coat, two layers of pants and three pairs of socks. Even though I was buried under blankets and whatever I wasn't wearing I was shivering.

"Mommy I'm cold," I wined my chapped face stung under tears that began to fall. My watery eyes gazed into the blue eyes of my mother. The heat didn't work in the house and it was snowing hard outside.

"Its okay little Dean don't cry," she whispered. I couldn't understand why she called me that. I guess I looked more like my father then than now. All I know is that she often called me my fathers name than my own.I figured because she missed him. Or maybe it was some inside joke I didn't understand.

"Do you think daddy is cold?" I had asked mainly just so she'd talk about him. I enjoyed it when she spoke about him. Her voice would grow soft and delicate, almost sad. Plus although I had never met him, I missed him.

"I don't know," was her reply.

"Can you tell me how you met?" I asked her for little did I know the last time. I'd heard the story a few times before.

She pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. She looked as cold as I was. I sneezed a little and she let me finish sniffling before she continued. The only light was from the kitchen which she had left on for my sake.I won't lie I was afraid of the dark but every kid is at least once in there life.

"Well I was working in a small dinner just outside of Illinois, and your father showed up on a hunting trip," She tells me her voice raw and scratchy from tiredness, "He walked in and my first thought was, 'this boy is trouble' and he was."

She paused laughing slightly at a distant memory. I closed my eyes trying to imagine the story. It was hard for I'd only seen my father in a old photo. He was young in it as was my mother. I carried it in my pocket everywhere I went. I'd talk to it sometimes pretending that I was actually talking to him.

"The first thing he did was wink at me and say, 'Hey do you have any pie?' I remember he order apple, and ate it peacefully for awhile then with a mouthful he began to ask questions," she says.

I cut in asking, "What kind of questions?" Although I'd heard the story many times I'd always found something new to ask.

"Just questions that had to do with his hunting trip," she says not truly answering, "Anyway, after he paid I thought it would be the last time I seen him, however it wasn't and everyday for weeks he'd come in every morning, ate and we'd make small talk."

She seemed to be drifting off in thought or sleep I couldn't tell. To keep her from closing her eyes I wondered, "Did you like him?"

"Not at first, in fact I found him quite annoying," She replied, "But I slowly began to enjoy his company, eventually he asked me on a date and I agreed, and it wasn't long before I fell head over heels for that Winchester."

"You loved each other?" I wondered.

"Something like that," She smiled, "Long story short I joined your fathers family business."

"Family business?"

"Saving people," she tells me.

I frowned confused, "I thought you said daddies a mechanic?"

"He is, he saves people from car troubles," she explain a amused look on her face. Before she could say much more the kitchen light flicked before going out completely.

For something that was completely normal my mother jumped up. I never understood but my mother always kept a gun close. Before I could get up on my elbows her handgun was cocked and loaded.

I must have been so tired or maybe it was the darkness but I saw the floor crack right through mutable symbols. A squeak escaped me and my mother had a sudden look of fear. This was a new look for her. She never was afraid. Howling sounded in the distance it was unlike any dog or coyote I ever heard.

"Dean," She whispered. I thought she was talking to me but I quickly found out she was talking to him. As I had been staring at the cracked floor she'd pulled out her phone, "They found us!"

I was so confused I remained frozen in place. It wasn't until my mother had jerked me to my feet had I snapped out of it. She looked into my eyes her face lit from the blue light of her phone.

"Hunter listen to me get in the closet don't come out," she demand. I opened my mouth to protest but she said, "NOW!"

Scrambling forward, my feet managed to get caught in the blankets. I crashed against the floor splinters digging into my hands. Just then the door opened and the porch light lit the room. Three men and a woman entered there eyes appeared to be a solid black except one who had red.

I excused there strange eyes as an allusion of the lighting. However I began to question that almost immediately. Humans didn't have eyes like that which meant these were not humans.

"Alice I told you I'd find you," the red eyed front man said. His grin sent shivers down my spine. A loud _boom_ echoed through the air. An a bullet ripped through the mans forehead. Like his eyes, his hair was a dark red, "A bullet, oh you know better than that."

I screamed not because I just watch my mother shoot a man but because the man seemed unfazed by it. It was all like something from a horror movie. An in that moment I was sure that whoever and whatever these things were they were monsters. The man smirked and looked at me. An my scream halted getting stuck in my throat. My body trembled but not from just the cold anymore but blinded fear. I was paralyzed.

"I've been waiting to meet your little rabbit Alice," the man says. His eyes flickered from me back to my mom.

She went to step toward me but was thrown into a near by wall. It was like a invisible wind had swept her away. The gun skidded across the floor and I scrambled so I was sitting on my knees. Before I could get to my feet the man started talking to me causing me to go still.

"What is your name little rabbit?" he asked as if speaking to a wounded animal.

"If you hurt her I'll kill you!" My mother screamed her voice filled with fury and tears, "I'll kill you! You motherfucker!"

I was sobbing at this point, petrified. Although I hadn't a idea what was going on. So many questions ran through my mind. Most having to do with these strange eyed people. Who where they and what did they want?

The man came towards me and I scrambled to my mother who was pinned to the wall. I didn't get to far before I was jerked back by my hair. A helpless squeal escaped my lips and I cried in desperation. Tears blurred my eyes and I reached for my mother.

"MOMMY!" I cried. I began shrieking loud struggling in the grasped of the man, "HELP ME MOMMY!"

My mother let out a angry heartbroken sob. Her eyes filled with so many emotions it hurt to look into them. My small fingers reached for her clawing the air. I was so afraid. I could feel the clinching in my stomach and I was sure I was gonna throw up.

"Please let her go!" my mom said, "I'll do anything!"

"So little rabbit how would you like to see both your parents die?" the man asked me. That's when I heard it. The purr of an engine as it speed into the driveway. I hoped it was the police but there was no flashing lights.

It was then it all happened fast. I don't remember those couple minutes besides being thrown to the floor. All I know was I seen my father for the first time in person. He was a little older than what he had been in the picture. His eyes shined a green like mine. I had rolled before being stopped by a wall. I couldn't feel it at the moment but my arm had been broken.

My mother had grabbed me, somehow breaking away from the force that had pinned her. I wanted to cry but nothing escaped my lips as she yanked me off the floor. She ran with me down the long narrow hallway.

"ALICE!" I heard a unfamiliar voice yell who I could only presume was my father. She set me in a empty room.

"Get in the closet!" An with that she turned running back towards danger.

I scrambled to the bedroom closet closing the door tightly. A few hangers hung above me. Besides for the soft scrap of them clinging together I could hear the fighting in the other room. So many tears spilled down my face. I covered my ears and I prayed. I can't remember my exact prayer but it was along the lines of 'Make sure my mommy and daddy are okay!'

It felt like hours but I doubt it was that long. It was dark in the closet I swear I could feel it smothering me. I remained still until the fighting stopped. Everything was quiet for a moment. It was then the heavy footsteps started towards the room.

A light flicked shining in the closet from under the door. I pushed back farther in the small space. My back against the wall my heart pounding hard. The shadow of feet stopped on the other side. I yelped as the door flung open.

An there he stood, my father. Blood dripped down his face clinching a knife in one hand and holding a duff bag in the other. He didn't say anything I think it was because he hadn't caught his breath quite yet. He grabbed my arm pulling me out of the closet. I was surprised as he pulled out a thing of salt and began pouring it around me. Once he finished he movied to the window seal pouring a thick line.

"W-where m-my mommy?" I asked wiping my tears. More of the howls sounded. My head began to pound I could see there glowing bodies through the window. My father moved towards the door.

He didn't look at me. I attempted to move towards him. He stopped me, "Stay inside the salt circle!"

"Daddy where mommy!" He eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pain. An I knew something was wrong. A bang from somewhere in the house made my father moved towards the door. He shut it tight ignoring my cry's. I could hear him shuffle for a minute and the sound of salt being poured.

Then it was quiet for and everything was still. All at once I could make out a strong muffled voice in the other room.

"You Winchesters always getting in the way," The red eyed mans words filled the air, "Come on Dean you know how deals work, I'm not gonna hurt your little rabbit."

Looking at the circle of salt around me I felt exposed. Slowly I took a step over it, something I'd regret forever. My steps where light and slow as I crept towards the door. I remember the feeling of the handle. 'Stay,' a voice in my head warned. I ignored it. I pulled the door opened slowly.

Â The bedroom light illuminate part of the hall. I moved quickly my socks sliding against the floor. Salt stuck to the bottom of them and I barley glanced at the broken salt line that had been in front of the door.

The sound of sirens filled my ears and I knew the police had arrived. I could see the red and blue lights flashed against the walls. A Stepping into the living room of the dancing lights I cried out, "MOMMY!" My mother laid crippled her body twisted in odd ways. Blood puddled underneath her.

I ran towards her ignoring the monster.  My father stood shouting non comprehensive words the redhead man smirking. An as if all at once black smoke rippled from the mouths of monsters. A thick fog had taken up the room before leaving all together. The bodies it came from crippled to the floor laying motionless. He had turned to look at me and I met his eyes for only seconds. Tears spilling I looked away and into the empty lifeless eyes of my mother.

"Mommy," I sobbed shaking her. The police rushed in I only looked up long enough to notice my father was gone. Then I stared back down at my mother waiting for her to push my hair out of my face and sing to me. Or simply assure me everything was alright. However she never did and I was left alone.

I had told the police about the strange eyed monsters, I told them everything. They thought I was just didn't want to admit my father had killed the people in my house that night. Along with my mother. No matter how many times I protest and repeated the story they told me 'monsters aren't real'.

I was told so many times that they had me convinced that I'd just been seeing things. That my six year old mind had twisted my memory in order to protect me from the truth. However, it was all a lie, monsters were real and looking at Tyson I knew for sure.

His eyes were black and they cut through me. My vision blurred around me, I felt like I was tilting. My head falling forward I took slow breaths sweat pouring down my face. I wasn't sure where I was, all I knew was it was dark. I twisted my wrist only to find they were zip tied behind my back.

I told myself not to panic but I couldn't help it. Humming Metallica didn't help neither did Motorhead. I didn't wanna die. Not that I could really jump to conclusions this could just be some crazy hidden camera show. Then again it probably wasn't.

"Wake up little Rabbit!" My breath hitched as Tyson patted my face hard. I felt a sudden sickness it was the same thing the red eyed monster had called me. I squinted trying to focus on my surrounding.

I felt like vomiting I probably had a concussion. Nauseous and confused I closed my eyes attempting to calm my headache which was worse than any hangover I had ever had.

"Aw don't fall asleep on me just yet," Tysons voice was soft. He spoke like he would when he'd tell me _'everything's gonna be alright.'_

"What are you?" I asked My eyes opening slightly, "Have you always been a monster Tyson?"

Tyson laughed looking at me, like I had said something hilarious. His eyes flickered to the original soft color. "You really don't know do you Winchester? An here I was hoping you could lead me right to your family."

"Lead you? To who my dad? Sorry to burst you damn bubble but I've only seen my father once and you know that Tyson!"

He shook his head, "Lets get something straight, this Tyson you speak of his not here right now."

"Right," I laughed not amused. My chest hurt at the idea that my best friend was a lying twisted monster. He was my back bone, he was my family. The pain that was burning in me made me want to throw up. Then again that could also be the concussion.

He closed his eyes opening them up again. The now solid black color glared into mine, "Names Francis, I'm a demon and I'm simply inhabiting this meat suit friend of yours, have been since the airport."

I raised and eyebrow, "Like The Exorcist?" I wasn't believing this, then again it almost sound reasonable. I'd known Ty most of my life it didn't seem like him to knock me out and tie me up in a warehouse. Or at least that's what my surroundings looked like.

Tyson...Francis shook his head chuckling coldly, "I was hoping for more of a reaction, then again you are a Winchester," he then smirked, "however not an important one, I mean my guess you weren't ever let in on _'The Family Business' ."_

"Family...what?" I frowned.

He laughed, "Thought so," he stood up straight towering over me. My vision blurred again, "Guess that just makes you an easy target, lucky me!"

I attempted a hard glare but failed, "Fuck you!" He seemed to find my anger and confusion hilarious, "What do you want? It can't be intel because as you have previously revealed I have no damn idea what the hells going on right now!"

Never had I wanted to hit Tysons pretty face so badly. I was frustrated and had to use the bathroom really bad. Francis gave me a mocking grin before walking towards a wooden table.

I sat still and helpless on the floor as had dumped the content of my bag. "You could still be of use, you see there was a rumor that Dean Winchester had a daughter with none other than Alice."

He paused looking at me closely. It was so weird, before me appeared to be my beloved Tyson. However it wasn't really him, it still hurt though. It felt as if he had actually do this to me. He wasn't though I couldn't describe its but its was like I could feel his presents when I was calm enough to listen. It was almost like I could feel his distresses of being trapped inside his own body.

'I'm gonna extracted this son of a bitch from you,' I promised through my eyes.

Francis narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, "I don't see it though, see I knew your mother."

"My...how?" I demand.

"We go way back, she was an impressive woman," The demon smiled as if amused, "Not only are you not like her, I don't see a lot of your father in you either, what a disappointment you are."

"What exactly am I useful for?" I demand the taste of vomit on my tongue, "Just a non important Winchester."

"Not sure little rabbit but you've had a bounty on your head for awhile now," Francis smirked, "And I intend to collect."

Frustrated I did all I could, I spit directly in his face (Tysons face). Francis scowled frowning at me as if I where a frustrating neighbor child. His fingers brushed my face softly before striking. The sound echoed, and I cried out. I could feel a stinging pain on the cheek and I was sure my lip was bleeding.

"You son of a bitch," I growled, "Your gonna regret  that."

His face remained neutral as if I hadn't spoke at all. He stood straight walking a little ways away from me. "Shouldn't be long now," he spoke in a voice that screamed 'bored'.

"What?" I demand.

"He should be here any minute," Francis tells me.

"Who?"

He didn't reply instead he took ahold of a small pocket knife from Tysons jeans. It was small I had given it to him as a gift on Christmas a few years back. The demon played with it for a second.

"Until then I guess we can have a bit of fun," Francis flashed me a smile. He opened the blade it gleamed in the low lighting. Panic rose in my chest. I could feel a panic attack rising. Deep breaths I command myself.

My heart pounded and I was nearly hyperventilating. The demon seen my distress and laughed. He shook his head smiling one that didn't look right of my best friends face. He stepped closer and I tugged at the zip tie.

"Calm down little Rabbit I'm not gonna uses this on you, the boss wants you unharmed...physically," He smiled as if it where a inside joke one I wasn't in on. "You see despite my opinion your worth something this Tyson of yours he's just a meat suit and I don't intend on leaving witnesses the last thing I need is your friend to track down daddy dearest, a Winchester brother isn't someone you want on your back."

Before I could react he slit from Tysons wrist up to his elbow. "Wait..no-STOP!" I screamed, "Please, I beg you don't!"

Blood spilled down his forearm as I cried. I jerked harder against my bonds. I knew I broke skin but I could care less as Francis did the same to Tysons other arm. Rage filled me or was that fear? It didn't matter because I roared.

I sounded like a monstrous cry it raddled the windows and flickered the lights. What I was most surprised about is it wiped the smug look off the demons faces. When my cry halted was when his started.

Black smoke poured out of Tysons mouth shooting upward. My ears where ringing and my body trembled. All at once it stopped. Everything and I watched as Tyson now pale clasped to the floor. A smell of rotten eggs lingered as well as copper.

"Ty," I choked after a moment of him motionless. He simple groaned. His skin looked almost gray now and I knew he was losing to much blood.

My head pounded and I could feel an episode coming on. I pushed it down chocking back sobs. Tyson was still, and I had to look hard to see the slight movement of his chest. I pulled again at the zip-tie but nothing changed.

"TYSON!" I pleaded, "Don't you dare bleed out on me, I'll kill you I swear!"

I ignored the irony of my comment and continued struggling. My eyes whelmed with tears and I closed them. I couldn't think about what I just experiences all I could focus on was getting to Tyson.

The pocket knife was way to far out of reach and tugging on the ties where not making any progress in my attempt to escape. Growling in frustration I took to yelling for help. "HELLO SOMEBODY! I NEED HELP!" I closed my eyes tight praying under my breath, "God, Buda, anyone who is listening please help."

I paused as if waiting, 'If there's demons that must mean there is Angels right?'

"Uh if any angel or whatever is listening my name is Hunter Winchester, remember that time I gave that homeless guy my sandwich? And all those other good things I'm sure I've done? Id like to cash them in please, just save me friend okay please? His name is Tyson Maverick and he usually goes to church every Sunday and he volunteers for the community he really deserves to be saved right now, please....amen?"

I peaked looking around the room. It was the same and Tyson was still bleeding. I let out a soft cry. I was stupid to think that angels would help my ass. I shook my head, I opened my mouth to say an apology to Tyson for dragging him into this but I never got a chance for suddenly knelt beside him was a man...in a trench coat?


End file.
